I did something this week that I have not done in years. It felt longer than that. I caught the Snowmass shuttle from my Snowmass neighborhood to go skiing on Snowmass. The last time I did it the bus had ski racks and the tips of my kids’ skis had edgy-wedgies attached. I stood at the door for a moment too long looking confused and the driver smiled like he was reading my mind. “You can bring them on.”<\/p>\n
So there I sat, holding my skis between my knees, feeling like I shouldn’t be feeling guilty about it. Once I saw how quickly passengers got on and off the bus keeping possession of their skis through the process, I marveled at the ingeniousness of the change. Plus, nobody had to shoulder skis covered with slushy road grime once they disembarked. Why did buses ever have ski racks?<\/p>\n
Right then, my desire to be recognized as a local in my own hometown was freeze-dried for future dreaming. I was clueless. I knew it. The bus driver knew it. Everyone on that bus sensed it. They believed I was one of them, and for good reason \u2014 I was one of them. If any had been here even a week and skied every day of it, they had racked up more days on Snowmass in the past decade than I have.<\/p>\n
I wondered if I had to get off at the transit center, which had not existed the last time I rode the bus, or if the bus still went to the mall, as it did in the old days. I decided not to ask and play it cool instead. If fate should take me past this stop and back to where I started, at least I could get into my car and drive to Aspen Mountain, per usual. That sacred place is to me as Cheers is to Norm sitting at the end of the bar.<\/p>\n
Fate may not have been kind, but it was resolute. The bus continued to the mall and dumped its load. I was destined to ski the gigantic bolt of white corduroy rolled out above my home.<\/p>\n
It was not completely by chance that I turned the page on the regular Sunday morning playbook. The previous Thursday evening, I had dinner with the local football chain gang. We meet in the winter to discuss any changes in the rule that a gain of 10 yards equals a first down. There never has been, but we play it safe.<\/p>\n
It turns out that my comrades in chains are big fans of skiing on Snowmass. Ken has always liked it. Tim, a recent transplant from Aspen and a Highlands diehard, said Snowmass had the steepest s\u2014 around. Dewayne, who builds more than he skis out here, agreed anyway. Bill, voting by proxy, went along with the majority. I listened to the clowns and decided to join the circus.<\/p>\n
It was snowing hard. It was windy up high. The lifts had been stopping frequently. I heard the avalanche bombs going off at regular intervals. I got to the top of the Big Burn and the only thing worth skiing that was open was KT Gully. It was a few inches of powder on top of frozen crud, satisfyingly challenging, but, if this was going to be the highlight, I was ready to empty the test tube.<\/p>\n
Back up the Burlingame lift, it was even windier than the first lap. Amazingly enough, the patrol had opened AMF for 15 minutes. A group of three local middle schoolers was braving the ground blizzard and heading that way. Above the roar of the wind, I asked if I could follow and they nodded their hooded heads.<\/p>\n
The gale practically blew us across the trail. At the top I was nervous. I could not remember how it started. In my mind I had it confused with Gowdy’s and I was afraid to launch blindly. I made one tepid turn. After it sloughed, I made another. Then another, and another. I had never skied untracked powder blinded by the white, but I highly recommend it!<\/p>\n
I went on to find Rock Island, The Cookies and other goodies I do not know the names of. There was plenty of cruising with plenty of new snow on top. I won’t bore you with a turn by turn account, because chances are you already know how it is out here. I had a blast! I saw a new side of Snowmass in zero visibility. It was like a dream. I wonder if I will remember any of this next weekend.<\/p>\n
Roger Marolt is not an Aspen Mountain snob, but he is used to the five-star skiing there. Email at rogermarolt@gmail.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n